


Stop the Nightmares

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Claustrophobia, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 21:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, you suffer with PTSD and horrible nightmares. Dean is the only one who knows about them and one who can help you calm  down.





	Stop the Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Italics indicate a dream sequence.

_The dark walls pushed in, moving closer and closer, an inch at a time. You put your arm against the nearest one and pushed, to no avail. There was less than a foot of room between you and the walls and they seemed to be getting closer with every second that passed. Your breath was tearing in and out of your throat and the sweat was dripping down your back as you struggled to climb out, but you couldn’t get a hold of anything. You started to panic, your nails digging at the walls, fingers bleeding. When you felt the walls brushing against your shoulders, you screamed._

The scream pulled you from the nightmare, catapulting you out of the bed, flailing, the blankets wrapped around your body as you tumbled to the floor. You hit the ground, knees first, hands barely catching you as you fell. You laid on the floor, sobbing, trying, but failing, to stifle the sound with the back of your hand.

Your door flew open, hitting the wall, and then Dean was by your side, pulling you up from the floor into his arms. He held you as you sobbed, whispering quiet words to you until the tears dried up. Without saying a word, he laid you on the bed and rearranged the blankets over you, then he took a tissue from the bedside table and carefully cleaned up your face. Once he was done, he leaned over you and kissed you lightly on the forehead.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I’m sorry, Dean,” you whispered.

“Knock it off,” he grumbled. “You have nothing to be sorry for, you can’t stop nightmares.” He turned on the small light on the low table near the door. “Good night, Y/N. Call me if you need me.” He gave you a small smile and left your room, leaving your door cracked open.

You could hear his bare feet slapping against the concrete floor of the bunker hallway as he returned to his room. You waited for the sound of his door closing - he always slept with his door closed - but it never came.

You smiled to yourself, grateful you had a friend like Dean. You’d been having nightmares for about two weeks, ever since a vengeful spirit had locked you in a trunk. You’d been trapped for hours and by the time Dean and Sam had found you, you were screaming and crying, your knuckles raw from beating on the lid of the trunk. The nightmares had started that night.

You’d managed to hide the fact that you were even having nightmares from both Winchester brothers for quite awhile. But one night Dean had been in the library, up late doing research, when he’d heard your screams. Thinking you were in trouble, he’d burst into your room, gun drawn, only to find you a crying mess on the floor. You’d had no choice but to tell him about the nightmares. Ever since that night, he’d been taking care of you whenever you had one, quietly and without one complaint.

You woke the next morning to the smell of bacon filling the bunker. You dragged yourself from your bed and stumbled to the kitchen. You dropped to the seat at the small table and put your head down. Sam pushed a cup of coffee over in front of you with a small smile.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you muttered.

“Hey, did either of you hear screaming last night?” Sam asked. “About three a.m.?”

You opened your mouth, not even sure what you were going to say, but Dean interrupted you.

“Yeah, that was my TV,” he said. “I fell asleep with it on and rolled over on the remote. It was some cheesy horror movie with a lot of screaming.” He shrugged, smiling. “Sorry.”

You stared at Dean, shocked, not quite sure what he was doing. You appreciated it though. It was bad enough that Dean knew about the nightmares, but it would be a million times worse if Sam knew. You weren’t sure you could handle both brothers feeling sorry for you. You mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to the elder Winchester, earning a nod in return.

Things went on like that for a while, Dean swooping in to rescue you from your nightly terrors, and the two of you keeping Sam in the dark about them. You’d hoped as time passed that the frequency and intensity of the nightmares would lesson, but that wasn’t the case. They actually seemed to be getting worse.

The only thing that seemed to help was Dean, he was the only one capable of calming you down. He would sit with you and rub your hair, or pat your back until your breathing returned to normal, your heart stopped pounding and your tears dried up. You desperately wished that the two of you were spending your nights together under different circumstances, though you had no intention of letting him know about your growing feelings for him. Especially right now, when you knew the only reason he was spending so much time with you was because of the nightmares. You’d just have to do your best to hide how you felt.

_It was dark, so dark you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face. You put your hand out, trying to feel your way around so you could figure out where you were, but you hit a wall about six or seven inches from your face. You moved your hand around, but you were surrounded on every side by hard wood. You slammed a fist into the space above you, dust falling into your face. The wall didn’t move._

_“Dean?” you called quietly. “Dean?”_

_But there was no answer from the other hunter. You punched your fist into the wall again, desperately calling Dean’s name, praying that he’d hear you. You tried to breathe, to keep yourself calm, but you needed out, you couldn’t stay in the trunk, in the dark, with the walls just inches from your face. Something snapped inside of you and you lost it, your control gone. Your hands and feet slammed repeatedly into the thick wood, while incoherent noises tore out of your throat. You could feel the sweat running in rivulets down your body and the tears pouring from your eyes. You were trapped and you were never getting out. Your incoherent babbling turned to screaming as you begged and prayed for release from the prison you were in while your limbs beat feebly against the walls._

_“Y/N,” you heard through the haze of your cries, but the voice was too far away, it wasn’t close enough to help. You fought harder for release._

_“Y/N!” a deep, rough voice growled and then soft lips were pressed against yours and strong arms were wrapped around you, crushing you to a broad, muscular chest._

Your eyes flew open, sure you were still dreaming, but Dean was right there, holding you, kissing you, protecting you, and without thinking, you kissed him back, hard. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, pulling him closer as you climbed into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips. He groaned as your hips pressed against him, his hands sliding up your back until they were tangled in your hair, holding you to him. He nipped at your lower lip, pushing your mouth open with his tongue, sliding it over your teeth, kissing you like you’d never been kissed before.

“You…were…screaming, you…you wouldn’t wake up,” he growled, his lips moving to your throat, licking and nibbling as he spoke. “I didn’t…know…what else to…to do.”

“No,” you murmured. “This is…this is good.” You slid your hands under his t-shirt, shoving it up, desperate to touch his skin, to run your hands over his hard muscles. You pushed him away, just long enough to yank the shirt over his head and then you pulled him back to you, his lips returning to your throat. You held his head in your hands as he sucked dark marks into your neck and shoulders and he roughly massaged your breasts, his thumbs rubbing repeatedly over your hard nipples.

You squirmed in his lap, drawing a low moan from Dean, his cock twitching between your bodies. He snarled like an animal and pushed you to your back, his hands tearing at your clothes until you were lying beneath him, completely naked. He settled himself between your legs, he still clad erection pressing into you.

“Dean,” you moaned, grabbing his ass and pulling him tight against you, grinding into him.

His lips were everywhere, biting, sucking, licking, driving you wild with need. He plucked and twisted your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, while his other hand moved up your leg to your inner thigh, pushing your legs open.

You gasped as he slid two fingers into you, his thumb brushing over your clit. He pumped them in and out of you as you ground against his hand, moaning obscenely.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” Dean whispered, his voice thick and filled with lust.

You nodded, your hair flying around your face as you writhed under his touch, aching for him to make you come. “Dean, please,” you whimpered, pushing at the fabric still covering him.

He sat up and hurriedly shoved off his boxers, before sitting down and pulling you into his lap. You grasped his shoulders as you lowered yourself onto him in one fluid movement, wincing slightly at the feeling of fullness his substantial size caused. Dean tugged lightly on your hair, forcing your head back. He sucked another mark into your neck, then his lips were ghosting over your skin until he reached your breast and he was able to suck your nipple into his mouth. He held your hips and began thrusting into you, his hips snapping up to meet yours as you rocked back and forth, holding his arms for support as you rode him.

Dean kissed you, biting at your lower lip again. You shoved your tongue into his mouth, tasting the whiskey he drank and the flavor of mint from the gum he chewed as you devoured him. Your nails dug into him, leaving long scratch marks on his shoulders. His hands moved over your body, touching every inch of you, one hand settling on your breast, caressing it, while the other slid between you, rubbing madly at your clit.

Heat spread through your body, starting in the pit of your stomach and moving out through all of your limbs, unbelievable, electrical, mind-numbing heat that consumed everything in its path until you were coming, grinding into Dean, holding his hand against your body, begging him not to stop, riding him harder and harder until you were screaming for the second time that night. Except this was a good scream, a “fuck-me-yes” scream, the kind of scream that let everyone within earshot know you were enjoying yourself immensely, that you were getting fucked and fucked good. Through the haze of the soul-consuming orgasm you were having, you heard Dean mutter “Oh, fuck,” as his hips stuttered and his thrusts became deeper and harder. As you came down from the single best orgasm you’d ever had, you heard Dean grunt and then he was coming with one last hard thrust.

Dean’s head fell back against the headboard and his hands fell to his side. You laid on him, your forehead resting on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

Sam suddenly burst through your bedroom door, gun drawn, obviously ready for a fight. His eyes widened at the scene in front of him.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, turning around and putting his back to the two of you. “Um, yeah, I, uh, heard screaming, so, um, yeah.”

Dean scrambled to pull the blanket over the two of you as you yelled obscenities at his brother. You could see Sam’s shoulders shaking in laughter and you heard Dean chuckling beside you.

“I knew you two were lying about the screams every night,” Sam grinned over his shoulder. “Loud TVs my ass!” He turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind him, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

You turned to look at Dean, a blush creeping up your cheeks. He smiled and pulled you against him, wrapping you in his arms.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” he promised. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

You looked up at him and pressed a kiss to his throat. “Yes, please,” you murmured. “I need you to stop the nightmares.”

“You got it,” he whispered.


End file.
